


Like a stormwind that will ring the freedom bell

by sansaswildlinglover



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, Virgin Sacrifice, a bit of Hades/Persephone, a bit of Iphigenia, virgin Jon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-08-06 13:57:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansaswildlinglover/pseuds/sansaswildlinglover
Summary: A young Jon Snow is smuggled away to Essos and ends up with his aunt Dany and uncle Visy.When they’re about to set sail for Westeros, there is no wind, and Viserys thinks they should sacrifice the bastard Targ to the gods to appease them.A beautiful goddess takes pity on him and whisks him away to her palace...Written for Jonsa Week Day 7: The Maiden





	Like a stormwind that will ring the freedom bell

The sun was already rising high in the sky when Dany emerged from her tent. Viserys would be expecting her soon, but she turned her back on his pavillion and walked out onto the cliffs. 

Jon was not in his tent. She supposed he was sparring with the sellswords or that he'd gone out riding. He'd always been an early riser. It was probably for the best. Viserys tolerated him, for their brother's sake, but they could hardly stand being in the same room together.

The bay stretched out before her, filled with black-sailed ships adorned with the three-headed Targaryen dragon as far as the eye could see. The day would grow hot again, and there was only a slight breeze to bring the slightest of relief.

Dany pursed her lips. Viserys would be displeased. They had been ready to set sail for Westeros, for home, for over a fortnight now, but ships couldn't sail without wind.

When she entered the pavillion, Viserys was sat on his makeshift throne, hands curled over the armrests like claws. His hair was pulled back from his face and tied together at the back of his head, revealing every inch of his enraged features.

"Dany!" he bellowed. "Come here and sit down!"

She hurried to curtsy and kiss his hand and folded herself down onto the pillows next to his chair. She hated herself for acting like this, but she feared waking his dragon even more.

Currently she was not the cause of his fury though. It was the woman kneeling before him. Dany tried to give her an encouraging smile when she glanced up at her, but she didn't seem nervous or scared. Dany liked the woman's broad, flat-nosed face. It was a kind face, a face she could trust.

Viserys had only liked her because she was a godswife, a maegi, and he took that to mean she could perform miracles. Dany knew he felt he was entitled to a miracle or two. Now he took her inability to control the weather as a personal insult.

"What do the omens say?" he demanded to know. "Are the gods not pleased with my offerings?"

"The gods are fickle," the godswife answered with a patient smile. "They are easily offended."

"Their refusal to give me what I want offends  _me!"_ he fumed, leaping to his feet. "I am the blood of the dragon, I'm as good as a god myself!"

Dany kept her eyes down, but she couldn't resist throwing a glance at the woman, who indulged Viserys with a small nod. 

His face was red, his lilac eyes narrowed to slits. "What do they want? More food or wine? How many more horses do I need to sacrifice before I can sail back to Westeros?"

"The gods demand a more difficult sacrifice, a more potent offering," she answered, flashing Dany a knowing smile.

Viserys was leaning forward, and Dany could see the hunger in his eyes. "Tell me," he said, his voice reduced to a whisper by the prospect of getting what he wanted.

The maegi stared at the floor before looking up and taking a deep breath. "There is power in king's blood. There is even more power in the blood of innocents. It's a cruel price, but one a king should be willing to pay."

Viserys' smile was that of a child that has been promised their favourite treat. "Fetch me Jon Snow!" he barked at one of the guards.

"What?" Dany heard herself asking.

Slowly Viserys turned around and stalked towards her. Dany wanted to run, but his gaze kept her in her place. He kneeled in front of her, and his lips curled into a smile.

"He's not a real dragon, Dany," he said softly, "not like us. He's just a bastard, and he's got too much of his Northern mother in him. They're all smelly, dimwitted goat fuckers up there anyway. You wouldn't know that, but it's true."

He pinched her cheek and pulled her flush against him, kissing her temple. Dany wanted to push him away, but she was frozen in fear.

"This is a good thing, Dany" he murmured into her skin. "He can finally make himself useful. You know what, I'll make this day even better. I'll summon the Septon, I'm going to make you my wife, sweet sister."

***

Jon fought with all he had in him, but he was no match for six Unsullied. He kept slipping in and out of consciousness as they undressed him and tied him to the stake, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue.

The Lhazareen maegi was chanting in an unfamiliar, guttural tongue, a lit torch in her right hand. She lowered it to the branches surrounding his feet. To Jon's surprise the air started filling with a fragrant, savoury smoke.

His stomach turned as he realized they'd seasoned his pyre, as if he was a lamb they were about to roast. Hot air was rising up around him, and the smoke was getting thicker.

The flames hadn't reached him yet, but the heat was quickly becoming unbearable, and the smoke was making it hard to breathe. He coughed violently as it started to fill his lungs. 

And then, most unexpectedly, a soft and blissfully cool breeze kissed his face. Had the maegi been right? Had the gods sent winds to steer his aunt and uncle across the Narrow Sea? He must have died then. How odd, he hadn't felt a thing.

As in a dream, he opened his eyes to see the ground before him split open, scattering the crowd gathered on the cliffs. Two giant wolves bolted up and out of the fissure. One was dovegrey and golden-eyed, the other white, with eyes the colour of blood.  _Direwolves,_ he thought, beasts from old legends who'd once lived in his mother's homeland.

They were pulling a gilded winged chariot. Holding the reins was a tall and fair woman with long auburn hair flowing behind her. He'd heard stories of warrior goddesses coming down from the heavens to lead fallen heroes to the afterlife, but he was not a hero, and this woman did not look like a warrior.

As she emerged from the chariot and approached him, he could see she was clad in soft grey silks and white Myrish lace and crowned with a bronze circlet studded with large sapphires that matched her blue eyes.

She lifted a gilded knife that was hanging from her belt and with one flick of her wrist she cut the ropes binding him to the stake. He hadn't noticed until now that the flames had died down. He stumbled into her but she held him up with a surprising strength for her willowy frame.

She helped him into the chariot and took hold of the reins. He felt a sharp pull inside his belly as the wolves took off. They pulled the carriage around and started descending into the depths of the earth. Soon the darkness swallowed them.

Jon didn't know how long the ride took them. He could only hold on for dear life as cool air whipped against his face. It was eerily quiet and the only sounds were his own breathing and the beating of his heart.

After several hours, or perhaps even days, he could not tell, Jon saw a faint light ahead of them. As they came closer, he could see that it was a pale golden mist, sparkling with a thousand tiny stars. The chariot didn't slow down, but headed straight for the veil and rode through it.

As they passed under it, the darkness faded and for a moment there was only blissfully warm golden light filling his vision. When his eyes had adjusted, he could see the carriage had stopped in a large, airy clearing. All around them, wildflowers filled the air with a potent sweetness. It was a breathtakingly beautiful place, only surpassed in loveliness by the radiant woman who was holding her hand out to him.

He took it and she led him down a narrow path disappearing between slender birches. The mossy canopy overhead turned the forest into an emerald paradise and as they walked he could hear birds singing and streams tinkling.

The woman's hand was soft and warm in his, but she still hadn't spoken a word to him. Somehow he felt it would be wrong for him to break the silence, so he held his tongue.

Soon the gold and emerald turned into duller greens and dark greys, and the spicy scent of the flowers was replaced by the the muskier sweetness of moist earth. Sentinels and oaks rose up all around them, touching the sky, and branches carrying thick layers of foliage blocked the sunlight.

The path was tricky, twisted roots lying hidden under blankets of fallen leaves, but his companion never faltered and he followed her lead.

They entered another clearing, though it was not nearly as bright as the one where they had arrived. It was dominated by an enormous white tree with with red leaves. A monstrous face was carved into its bark and red sap trickled from its eyes and mouth like blood.

She led him around a large black pool, and came to a halt in front of the weirwood tree. He'd never seen one before, but he'd heard about them in stories. He watched as the woman in front of him studied his face. Shrouded in mystery as she was, he guessed she couldn't be older than he was, and she was the loveliest creature he'd ever seen.

Her eyes travelled down his body and he realized in shame that he was still naked. He moved to cover himself, but she put a hand on his arm and offered him a smile.

"Am I dead?" he asked her.

"No," she said, reaching up to brush a curl from his face. "I couldn't let you die. I never can." Her hand slid down and came to rest over his heart, which started hammering in some fit of foolish madness.

"You make a fine gift," she told him.

He gulped. "A gift?"

She nodded. "It's been many years since I received one as pleasing such as yourself," she told him.

"Many years?" he asked, feeling like a fool for the way he kept parroting her.

"Oh, dozens of them," she laughed. She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Completely overwhelmed, he started kissing her back, but quickly pulled back, temporarily brought back to his senses.

"Wait," he told her, gently taking her by the shoulders. "I don't even know your name."

"My name is Sansa," she whispered against his lips.

"That's a pretty name," he rasped, intoxicated by her closeness. "I am-

"Jon Snow," she interrupted him. "I know."

She pulled back and a disappointed whimper escaped from his throat. She unfastened her belt and undid the pins and brooches holding her gown together. Silk and lace slithered to the ground until she was standing before him in all her naked glory.

He'd seen naked women before, but never one was as lovely as her. Her pale skin was almost glowing in the dim light as his eyes danced over her luscious curves, finding it hard to decide whether they wanted to linger on her rose-tipped breasts, her endless legs or the patch of bright red hair between her thighs.

She took a step forward and he stumbled back. Her face fell and she froze.

"You don't want me? Am I not pleasing to you?" she asked quietly. Her pout was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen. He licked his lips, trying to find the words to explain, which was difficult, with all of his blood flowing south.

"You are very pleasing," he told her.

She glanced down and a delighted smile took over her face. "Yes, I think so too. You do want me!" She advanced again, but he held out a hand.

"Wait, I... I have never lain with a woman before," he mumbled, heat flushing his face.

"Never?" she whispered excitedly.

"Never," he confirmed. 

A bright smile lit up her face. "I like it," she told him.

Encouraged by her words, he gathered her in his arms and kissed her again. His hands roamed over her body, his mouth found every inch of her silky skin.

They ended up on the forest floor, legs tangled together, and him lying on top of her. She was sopping wet when he entered her. Too soon, he lost himself in the feeling of her tight, wet heat and he was reduced to a sweaty, panting mess as he rolled off her.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked as she propped herself up on an elbow, looking at him with one corner of her mouth curled up.

"No," she assured him.

"It was over so quickly," he sighed.

"It was!" she giggled. "Don't worry about it," she told him, swinging a leg over his hips to straddle him. She leaned down, her red hair flowing down around them. "You're mine now," she kissed his lips, "we can do it as often as we like."

With her mouth and hands caressing him, he could quickly feel himself growing hard again. She reached down to wrap her fingers around his length and guide him to her entrance.

He groaned as she sank down on him, reaching up to palm her breasts. She slipped a hand between their joined bodies and this time she peaked before he did.

She leaned down to kiss him again, humming contently as he slipped out of her. Soon after he fell asleep with her cradled in his arms, her head pillowed on his chest. 

He woke up alone, slowly sitting up, stretching his pleasantly light limbs. He found her standing next to a large moss-covered rock. He let his eyes feast on her pert round ass and her endless legs. It wouldn't take long before he'd be ready for her again.

He rose to his feet and closed the distance between them. She was peering into a stone basin filled with water so black it could only come from the pool he'd seen before. 

He wrapped his arms around her, resting his chin on her shoulder and glanced into the basin, but all he could see was black water. "What are you doing?"

"I want to give you something back," she said, leaning into his touch.

"You can see things? In the water?"

She hummed in confirmation. "Your uncle is dead," she told him. "He got drunk and fell face first into a brazier." She shrugged. "Or at least that's the story they'll tell."

Jon let that sink in, quickly realizing what Sansa was implying. "Is Dany...?"

"She's all right." She turned around in his arms and brushed a curl from his forehead.

"I've seen your future," she added.

He chuckled. "Do I even want to know?"

She offered him a smile and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "You will be king," she whispered. "And I'm going to help you with that."

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my last entry for Jonsa Week.
> 
> I was planning to do 3 more, but one of them just isn't working out right now.
> 
> The two others are multi-chapters, and I promised myself: no more WIPs apart from the ones I've already planned. So I'll only start posting those when they're (almost) completely finished.


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